Since 1985, in various formats, SLANT -- an independent voice based in Richmond's Fan District -- has offered its readers original commentary on politics and popular culture, including cartoons and selected sundries. Warning: Sometimes that means satirical content. All rights are reserved.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Biograph Times: Chapter One: The First Year

by F.T. Rea The First Year: Over 200 Titles

Note: The second of my three bosses, while I was manager of Richmond's Biograph Theatre, died on Tuesday. Lenny
Poryles drew his last breath on Feb. 6, 2018, at his home in
Arbonne-La-Forêt, France. He was 81. In addition to being an insightful
and reliable person to work with, Lenny was a warm and generous man.
RIP, Lenny.

About six weeks before its Feb. 11, 1972, opening gala this
wide-angle view of The Biograph was
captured by a Richmond News Leader photographer. It was snapped late in
1971, a few days before the new building at 814 W. Grace St. received
its distinctive bright yellow paint-job.

*

On what I remember as a bright morning, it was in early July of 1971, I went to a construction site on the north
side of the 800 block of West Grace Street. Mostly, it was a big hole in
the orange dirt between two old brick houses.

A friend had tipped me
off that she’d been told the owners of the movie house set to rise from
that hole were looking for a manager who knew something about movies and
could write about them. She also said they were hoping to hire a local
guy. Chasing
the sparkle of that opportunity I met David Levy at the construction
site.

Levy was the Harvard-trained attorney who managed the Biograph
Theatre at 2819 M Street in Washington. D.C. He was
one of a group of five men who, in 1967, had opened Georgetown’s Biograph in what
had previously been a car dealership.

Although none of
them had
any experience in show biz, they were hip young movie lovers whose
timing had been impeccable -- they caught a pop culture wave. The golden
age of repertory cinema was waxing and those original partners happened
to be living in what was the perfect town for their venture. They did well right away.

With
their success in D.C. to encourage them, a few years later the same
five, plus one, were looking to expand.
In Richmond’s Fan District they thought they had discovered just the
right neighborhood for a second repertory-style cinema, again using
split weeks and double features. In this style of calendar house
programming one usually adheres to a published schedule. So if a movie
draws well, instead of holding it over you bring it back soon.

A
pair of local players, energy magnate Morgan Massey and real estate
deal-maker Graham “Squirrel” Pembroke, acquired the land. They agreed to
build a cinder block building to house a single-auditorium cinema just a stone’s throw from Virginia Commonwealth University’s academic
campus for the entrepreneurs from D.C. to rent. The "boys in D.C." had to pay for the projection booth equipment, the turnstile (we used tokens, rather than tickets) and the seats, some 515 of them.

At the
time I was working for a radio station, WRNL, so I gave Levy tapes of
some humorous radio commercials I had made for what had been successful
promotions. About 10 weeks
after that first meeting with Levy I was offered the manager’s position
for the new Biograph.

Can't recall all that much about
that day, except I was told I beat out a lot of competition. Oddly, what
I do remember clearly is a brief flash of me sitting in my living room,
trying to be nonchalant, so as to not to reveal just how thrilled I was
at getting that offer. In truth, at
23-years-old, I could hardly imagine a better job for me existed, at
least not in the Fan District.

This all happened three
years after Richmond Professional Institute and the Medical College of
Virginia merged to become VCU in 1968. In the fall of 1971 there were few signs of the dramatic impact the new university would
eventually have on Richmond. Although a couple of film societies were thriving on
campus in that time, other than local film critic Carole Kass' History of Motion Pictures class, the school itself was offering little in the way of classes
about movies or filmmaking.

There were a few VCU professors
who occasionally showed artsy
short films in their classes. Mostly, independent and
foreign features didn’t come to Richmond. So, in 1971, the coming of the
Biograph Theatre to Grace Street was great news to local film buffs. Generally, it was seen as another sign the neighborhood's nightlife
scene was becoming more attractive to the young adult market.

Levy and I got along
well right away. We became friends who trusted one another. He and
his partners were all about 10 years my senior.

My
manager’s job lasted until the summer of 1983. Owing to unpaid rent Grace Street’s Biograph
Theatre was seized by the landlord four years later. A hundred miles to the north, the
Biograph on M Street closed in 1996. David Levy died in 2004.

In
2018 there’s a noodles eatery in same building that once housed the repertory cinema I managed for 139 months. Now it’s the oldest building
on the block.

*

On
the evening of Friday, February 11, 1972, the adventure got off the ground with
a gem of a party. In the lobby the dry champagne flowed steadily, as the
tuxedo-wearers and colorfully outfitted hippies mingled happily. A
trendy art show was hanging on the walls. The local press was all over
what was an important event for that bohemian commercial strip.

The
feature we presented to over 300 invited guests was a delightful French
war-mocking comedy — “King of Hearts” (1966); Genevieve Bujold was
dazzling opposite the droll Alan Bates. With splashy
news and television stories about the party trumpeting the Biograph's arrival the next night we
opened for business with a cool double feature: “King of Hearts“ was paired
with “A Thousand Clowns“ (1965). Every show sold out.

The
owning partners were all there for the first-ever Biograph party. Other
than the projectionist, Howard Powers -- who was supplied by the
local operators union -- I had hired the theater's opening night's staff: The cashiers were Cathy Chapman and Susan Eskey. The ushers were Bernie Hall
and Chuck Wrenn. A few weeks later Chuck was promoted to assistant
manager and Susan Kuney was hired as a third cashier. I think Joe
Bumiller replaced Chuck as an usher.

The
Biograph’s printed schedule, Program No. 1, was heavy on documentaries.
It featured the work of Emile de Antonio and D.A. Pennebaker, among
others. Also on that program, which had no particular theme, were
several titles by popular European directors, including Michaelangelo
Antonioni, Costa-Gavras, Federico Fellini, and Roman Polanski.

Like
the first one, which offered mostly double features, each of the next
several programs covered about six weeks. At this point Alan Rubin, who
worked in the Georgetown office, did all the mechanical art for those
programs, as he had been doing for the D.C. Biograph. In the initial months he and Levy made the programming decisions, with me throwing in my two-cents worth.

Baby
boomers who had grown up watching old movies on television had learned
to worship important movie directors. Within a certain set, knowing film was cool; it could
get you laid. The fashion of the day elevated certain
foreign movies, selected American classics, a few films from the
underground scene, etc., to a level above most of their more accessible
Hollywood counterparts.

In reading everything I could
find about which films were respected and popular, especially in New York
and San Francisco, it was easy to gather that the
in-crowd viewed most of Hollywood’s then-current product as either
laughingly naive or hopelessly corrupt. Or both. Perhaps most admired of all foreign
films were those considered to be part of the French New Wave, which
began as the '50s ended with the early features made by Louis
Malle, François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard.

What
the first year on the job would teach me was how few people in Richmond
really wanted to see the best imported films in that time. After the opening flurry of interest
in the new movie theater, with long lines to nearly every show, it was
surprising to me when the crowds shrank dramatically in the months that
followed. Which showed me how important that run-up to the opening publicity had been.

As VCU students had been a substantial
portion of the theater’s initial crowd the slump was chalked off to warm
weather, exams and then summer vacation. In that context the first
summer of operation was opened to experimentation aimed at drawing
more customers from beyond the immediate neighborhood. That
gave me an opportunity to do more with a project my bosses had put me in
charge of developing, Friday and Saturday
midnight shows -- using radio in particular to promote them.

By
trial and error I learned quickly that movies that lent themselves to
attention-getting promotion performed better at the box office. Early midnight show successes were “Night of the Living
Dead” (1968), “Yellow Submarine” (1968), “Mad Dogs and Englishmen”
(1971), and an underground twin bill of “Chafed Elbows” (1967) and
“Scorpio Rising” (1964). Most of the failures have been forgotten.

With significant input from
Chuck, the theater’s well-known assistant manager, quirky non-traditional ad campaigns were designed in-house. Chuck's help with developing the style we used for choosing these late shows and promoting them effectively can't be overstated.

We learned there were
two essential elements to midnight show promotions: 1. Wacky radio spots had to be created and run on WGOE, a popular AM station aimed directly at the hippie listening audience. 2.
I made distinctive handbills that were posted on utility poles, bulletin
boards and in shop windows in high-traffic locations. Both elements had to show a sense of humor.

Dave
DeWitt produced the radio commercials. We happily shared the
copy-writing chore. In his studio, Dave and I
frequently collaborated on the making of those spots with an ample
supply of cold Pabst Blue Ribbons and whatnot. Most of the time we went
for levity, even cheap
laughs. Dave had a classic announcer's voice and he was quite masterful
at physically crafting radio commercials. He was more of a nitpicker for
perfection than I was, so we made a good team.

On
September 13, 1972, a George McGovern-for-president benefit was staged
at the Biograph. Former Gov. Doug Wilder, then a state senator, spoke.
We showed "Millhouse" (1971), a documentary that put President Richard
Nixon in a bad light.

Yes, I was warned that
taking sides in politics was dead wrong for a show business entity in
Richmond. Taking the liberal side only made it worse. But the two most
active partners who were my bosses, Levy and Rubin, who was a
geologist turned artist, were delighted with the notion of doing the
benefit. They were used to doing much the same up there. So with the
full backing of the boys in D.C. I never hesitated to reveal my
left-leaning stances on anything political.

Also in
September “Performance” (1970), a somewhat overwrought but well-crafted
musical melodrama -- starring Mick Jagger -- packed the house at
midnight three weekends in a row. Then a campy, docu-drama called
“Reefer Madness” (1936) sold out four consecutive weekends.

The
midnight shows were going over like gangbusters. To follow “Reefer
Madness” what was then a little-known X-rated comedy, “Deep Throat”
(1972), was booked as a midnight show. By then the Georgetown Biograph
was experimenting with playing naughty midnight shows. In Richmond,
we had played a handful of films
that had earned an X-rating, they had been more
artsy than they were vulgar. This was our first step across the line to
hardcore
porn.

*

As “Deep Throat” ran only an hour, master
prankster Luis Buñuel’s surrealistic classic short film (16 minutes),
“Un Chien Andalou” (1929), was added to the bill, just for grins. It
should be noted that like "Deep Throat," Buñuel’s first film, was also
called totally obscene in its day. Still, this may have been the only
time that particular pair of outlaw flicks ever shared a billing ...
anywhere.

A few weeks after “Deep Throat” began playing
in Richmond, a judge in Manhattan ruled it was obscene. Suddenly the
national media became fascinated with it. The star of "Deep Throat,"
Linda Lovelace, appeared on network TV talk shows. Watching Johnny
Carson pussyfoot around the premise of her celebrated “talent” made for
some giggly moments.

Eventually, to be sure of getting
in to see this midnight show, patrons began showing up as much as an
hour before show time. Standing in line on the brick sidewalk for the
spicy midnight show frequently turned into a party. There were nights
the line resembled a tailgating scene at a pro football game. A
determined band of Jesus Freaks took to standing across the street to
issue bullhorn-amplified warnings of hellfire to the patrons waiting in
the midnight show line that stretched west on Grace Street. It only
added to the scene.

Playing for 17 consecutive
weekends, at midnight only, “Deep Throat” grossed over $30,000. That was
more dough than the entire production budget of what was America’s
first skin-flick blockbuster.

The midnight show’s
grosses conveniently made up for the disappointing performance of an
eight-week program of venerable European classics at regular hours. It
included ten titles by the celebrated Swedish director, Ingmar Bergman.
The same package of art house workhorses played extremely well up in
Georgetown, underlining what was becoming a painfully underestimated
contrast in the two markets.

On the theater's first
anniversary I made a list of all the titles we had presented. A few
noteworthy shorts films were on the list, such as Chris Marker's "La
Jetée" (1962), but I omitted most shorts. The list, which I had printed
as a flyer to hand out, was over 200 titles long.

In 52
weeks, to establish what we were, the Biograph had presented over 200
different films, some in a couple of runs. Split weeks with doubles
features, plus midnight shows, chewed up a lot of product. By the end of
the first year Levy, Rubin and I knew we needed to make some changes in
our programming.

The Fan District was not becoming Georgetown and in spite of what
some folks were predicting, maybe it never would. To be successful in
Richmond we realized we had to do more to cultivate the audience here to
appreciate the sort of films we loved and most wanted to present. And,
in the meantime, we had to figure out how to stop losing money at an
alarming rate.

To start, maybe fewer old Bergman flicks.

*

Here's a small sample of the first year's avalanche of sweet double features. In this case I chose to have 12 double features on the list, because that's typically what was on one of the Biograph's calendar style programs in the first year of operation:

Feb. 12-14, 1972:“King of Hearts” (1966): Color. Directed by Philippe
de Broca. Cast: Alan Bates, Geneviève Bujold, Pierre Brasseur. Note:
The first movie to play at the Biograph was a zany French comedy, set
amid the harsh but crazy realities of too much World War I.“A Thousand Clowns” (1965): B&W. Directed by
Fred Coe. Cast: Jason Robards, Barbara Harris, Martin Balsam. Note: A
social worker investigates the rules-bending circumstances in which a
boy lives with his iconoclastic uncle, an unemployed writer.

Feb. 21-23, 1972:“Z” (1969): Color. Directed by Costa-Gavras. Cast:
Yves Montand, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Irene Papas. Note: A political
assassination’s cover-up in Greece spawns a compelling based-on-truth
whodunit, with sudden plot twists, all told at a furious pace."The Battle of Algiers"
(1966): B&W. Directed by Gillo
Pontecorvo. Note: This account of the cruel tactics employed by both
warring sides during the Algerian revolution is part documentary, part
staged suspenseful recreation. Unforgettable.

Mar. 17-20, 1972:“Gimme Shelter” (1970): Color. Directed by Albert
Maysles and David Maysles. Performers: The Rolling Stones, the
Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Tina Turner and more. Note: A
documentary with much concert footage and one murder.“T.A.M.I. Show” (1964): B&W. Directed by Steve
Binder. Performers: the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys, the Supremes,
James Brown, Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Lesley
Gore and more appear in concert footage.

Apr. 12-13, 1972:"Bell Du Jour" (1967): Color. Director: Luis Buñuel. Cast:
Catherine Deneuve, Jean Sorel, Michel Piccoli. Note: Beautiful Severine
loves her successful husband. With him she’s frigid. Her kinky fantasies
lead her to the oldest profession … only by day.
"A Man and a Woman"
(1966): Color. Director: Claude Lelouche. Cast: Anouk Aimée, Jean-Louis
Trintignan. Note: A widower and a widow meet by chance at their
childrens' boarding school. As
the struggle to deal with their attraction to one another, neither has gotten over their loss.

June 1-7, 1972:“McCabe & Mrs. Miller” (1969): Color. Directed
by Robert Altman. Cast: Warren Beatty, Julie Christie. Note: With
Altman, the routine gambling, prostitution and power struggles in the Old West take
on a different sort of look. More grit. Less glory. All random.

June 14-18, 1972:“Putney Swope” (1969): Both B&W and color. Directed
by Robert Downey Sr. Cast: Stan Gottlieb, Allen Garfield, Archie
Russell. Note: This strange but hilarious send-up of Madison Avenue was
Downey’s effort to crossover from underground to legit. Probably his most accessible work."Trash"
(1970): Color. Director: Paul Morrissey. Cast: Joe Dallesandro, Holly
Woodlawn. Note: It was billed as "Andy Warhol's Trash," as he was
credited with being the producer of Morrissey's series of undergroundish
films. This one reveals the down-and-out urban lifestyle of an oddball
couple.

June 29-July 2, 1972:"Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb" (1964): B&W. Directed by Stanley
Kubrick. Cast: Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Slim
Pickens. Note: This nuke-mocking black comedy
raised eyebrows at the height of the Cold War. Still a laugh riot. “M.A.S.H.”
(1970): Color. Directed by Robert Altman.
Cast: Donald Sutherland, Elliott Gould, Sally Kellerman. Note: This
cynical comedy about doctoring too close to the pointless battles
of the Korean War is much funnier than the long-running TV show that followed it.

Sept. 21-24, 1972:"Citizen Kane" (1941): B&W. Directed by Orson Welles. Cast:
Orson Welles, Joseph Cotten, Dorothy Comingore. Note: The meaning of a
powerful, lonely man’s last word enlarges into a mystery. Flashbacks
reveal a large life driven by lusts and obsessions. As American as it gets. "The Magnificent Ambersons"
(1942): B&W. Directed by Orson Welles. Cast: Tim Holt, Joseph
Cotten, Dolores Costello, Anne Baxter. Note. This truncated-by-the
studio version of what the indulgent director intended follows the
meandering story of a prominent family's fortunes.

Oct. 9-11, 1972: “The Third Man” (1949): B&W. Directed by Carol
Reed. Cast: Joseph Cotten, Orson Welles, Alida Valli. Note: This elegant
film noir mystery, set in crumbling post-war Vienna, is pleasing to the
eye and stylishly cynical. Hey, no heroes here, but great music. "Breathless" (1960): B&W. Directed by Jean-Luc Godard. Cast:
Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jean Seberg. Note: An opportunistic thief on the lam
becomes irresistible to a pretty American journalism student in Paris.
Uh-oh, the guy is dangerous. How long can living in the moment last?

Nov. 17-19, 1972:“Duck Soup” (1933): B&W. Directed by Leo
McCarey. Cast: The Four Marx Brothers (Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Zeppo), Margaret Dumont.
Note: With Rufus T. Firefly as dictator of Freedonia and flush from a
fat loan from Mrs. Teasdale, what could hilariously go wrong? How about war?"Horse Feathers" (1932): B&W. Directed by Norman McLeod. Cast: The Four Marx
Brothers, Thelma Todd. Note: The
Biograph's secret password that opened doors was "swordfish." The scene
that spawned that tradition is in this gag-filled send-up of on-campus life and football.

Dec. 7-10, 1972:“The Producers”
(1968): Color. Directed by Mel
Brooks. Cast: Zero Mostel, Gene Wilder, Kenneth Mars, Dick Shawn. Note:
Brooks’ first feature film laughed at Nazis with what was a fresh
audacity. Mostel and Wilder are so funny it ought to be illegal.“The Graduate (1967):
Color. Directed by Mike Nichols. Cast: Anne Bancroft, Dustin Hoffman,
Katherine Ross. Note: The mores of upper middle class life in the '60s are laid
bare, as a recent college graduate's idleness leads to an affair with
the beautiful, but wrong older woman.